Lately I’ve been quite mesmerized by old age. I observe all the elderly people around me and I start to see past their outer exterior and into their vulnerable interior. I watch the elders with their sagging, feeble bodies, their bones protruding, their eyes hollow and wary of every step they take in case they fall. The wrinkles on their faces tell a thousand stories from the glory of the good old days and the marvels of an era. Their pride prevents them though from reaching out to us admitting they need assistance, for how could they? Weren’t they the ones who raised, fed and bathed us when we were young? Weren’t they the ones who taught us how to walk and talk and took us to school? Wasn’t it them who comforted us when we cried? What kind of cruel world is it that now it is they who need our comfort and support? How could they reveal their struggles now in fulfilling their basic matters of daily life to us? So they shudder and stutter and go about their daily routines trying to maintain their dignity by refusing to admit they need any help. In their eyes and in their feeble bodies I see pain, fear and a great yearning. Yearning for their families, yearning for their youth, yearning for us to understand their struggles without uttering a word.

So this month I dedicate this entry to our fathers, mothers, grandparents and great grand parents. To the old man selling spare parts across the street and the old woman sweeping the floors at the school. I dedicate this entry to the elders at the nursing homes, the veterans of war, the heroes of the past and the elders of tomorrow. Today after growing decades myself I watch in silence at what I thought was stubborness when it was in fact vulnerability. What I sensed was ego was actually desperation and what I felt was anger was actually fear.. Growing old with grace I realized doesn’t apply to the the physical it’s in the spiritual. It’s in the wisdom of aknowleding that our time here on earth is finite. That a cozy home and to be surrounded by the people we love are the essence of life. That the simple laughter of a child and the warm hand of a son mean the world to us. Our parents and grandparents bodies may be growing old yet their spirits stand true to the test of time. I see it now, I see the grace. I learned that growing old is upholding yourself with honor regardless of the fear. It’s needing your children by your side yet still managing to wave to them goodbye, wondering deep in your heart wether you will get the chance to see them again. Grace is in the acceptance that life was lived fully and that now it is time for the children to live theirs. It’s for letting go and having no regrets, and for finally accepting that you are fallible. It’s for turning to God and for keeping the faith and for never losing hope that God is all merciful and all forgiving.

Our elders are the candle lights burning strong against the force of the winds of time. We will cry tears of blood when they part, and we will wish we stayed that extra hour they asked us to stay, or held them closer when we had the chance. Our elders bodies may part us yet their smiles and their memories and everything they taught us when they raised us continue to live through us as we slowly and gracefully age ourselves.